


The blood i shed i shed for me (for you, for us)

by alittleoff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, First Kiss, M/M, Self-Harm, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, everyone is 18 or older, im not even sure how you pronounce Malia, no malia because i havent seen any of season 4 and dont know her character, self-harm for magical reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittleoff/pseuds/alittleoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles gets magic, he really does. He understands it.</p>
<p>Emotions not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The blood i shed i shed for me (for you, for us)

Stiles smiles, hands linked behind his back as he stares expectantly at his father. "So, anything exciting happen today?"

The sheriff side eyes his son but replies anyway, "Yeah, actually. During my lunch break Melissa showed up. Said that Scott had told her to come to the station - that it was important." he gives Stiles a pointed look then. 

Stiles clasps his hands tighter together, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Oh? Why ever would Scott tell her to go to the station specifically on your lunch?" 

The sigh the sheriff lets out is long suffering, "I, well, I asked her out finally. I wasn't going to, as you well know and clearly you set this up with Scott, but I just had this feeling that if I was going to do it..." he trails off then, no longer giving Stiles accusing looks but instead looking a mixture of amused and confused. "You know, it's the damnedest thing, but I swear that it felt like everything would be exactly how I wanted it to be, even if she had rejected me. Weirdest moment of self-confidence I ever had if I'm being honest." 

"That's great, daddy-o!" Stiles beams, "I knew you could do it! Wait- she did say yes right?" 

"Yup, got a date for Friday." 

"Aww yes! I'm gunna go text Scott and let him know we are brothers by law now!" Stiles turns on heel, rushing up the stairs and is at the top before his father can ever shout the words 'it's one date not marriage!' at the back of his head. 

Stiles is still grinning like a loon, even as he looks down at his bandaged hand. 

*-*-*-* 

Stiles never really leaves the books Derek found for him. Okay, so it was more of Stiles nagging in Derek's ears until the werewolf flashed his eyes and started searching through Peter's apartment for anything that might be useful but found sounds so much better. 

When Derek handed the stack of books to Stiles, he'd held them tightly preventing Stiles from yanking them from his hands and bounding away. "Don't take these books lightly, and certainly don't follow all the magic in them. Just read them, learn about all the magic, _and how to stop it_. Some of this material is dark." 

Stiles had stared at him for a moment, his mind racing through emotions such as confusion and mild amusement, which was the emotion he displayed with a small smirk on his face. "Did you read through all these books to protect me?" 

Stiles had expected exasperation but instead Derek had growled out " _Yes_ because you _won't_. I'm warning you now, Stiles, no good comes from magic, and some magic is worse than others." 

Yet, as Stiles reads the books (devours them really) he can't understand Derek's lack of trust for magic. Stiles gets it. It being magic, not Derek or his emotions (why would he have any interest in learning Derek's emotions, really, they are barely friends, _what are you snickering at Scott McCall I will deny this crush to the ends of the earth_ ). 

Magic is easy to get, basic even. Heck, it's a lot easier than the chemistry class he's acing already, so why would this be difficult? 

The intent behind magic is where complications come in, so yeah, Stiles can _kind of_ understand why Derek has no trust because Derek doesn't trust people or emotions, which is what magic works around. Magic itself can't do anything - it needs a catalyst. 

Stiles is more than willing to be that catalyst. Especially if his friends need him to be; with or without (it's usually without) their knowledge of needing him or his magic. This leads to Stiles reading a book titled 'Body Magicks: Using Life Force to Change Your Life' which Stiles had snorted at after first reading the title. He gets it now though. 

The book itself was written to help yourself and to use, for lack of better terms, your enemies to gain what you want. Work blood magic from those who have harmed you, manipulate other's emotions to your gain, bad mojo like that. Stiles refuses to believe that magic can be inherently evil so he studied the making of the spells. What exactly went into potions and brews, which herbs meant what and which could be replaced to make slight changes. 

That was how Stiles learned that by shedding just a bit of blood (really, the cut on his hand could be attributed to a kitchen accident) he could give his father self-confidence. Enough for him to not fear rejection and it had scored him a date! 

So yeah, Stiles never left the books. He carries them with him everywhere in his backpack, which he may or may not have infused with a light form of wolfsbane to keep the werewolves from smelling what was in his bag. He'd actually learned that trick from Deaton four months ago when a rather embarrassing sexual fantasy had led to mortification (he no longer wanted those with superior smelling to know what he carried with him). He does feel a little deceptive, keeping this a secret, but he feels the pack wouldn't approve of this type of magic, even if the only harm that came from it was to himself. 

He needs more practice with using the magic, so he takes it upon himself to work some magic the day of semester finals - Scott and Isaac are both panicking over the chemistry test so Stiles stays up most of the night chanting, channeling, and focusing. 

He is dead tired by the time chemistry comes around. It is the class directly after lunch, so Stiles hurries to the classroom to draw the sigils needed on the bottom of the seats and desks that Scott and Isaac are assigned to. There is no real need to mask the scent, as he'd used poppy and lavender infused water to draw the sigils and he figures the scent could be easily mistaken for perfume anyway. 

Scott shows up, concern on his face as he takes his seat next to Stiles. "Missed you at lunch." 

"I had some more studying to do, so I skipped the loud lunch room and came here instead," Stiles replies with a grin. It's not a lie, so he knows his heart doesn't skip a beat. After all, he is studying magic. 

Scott accepts this and the time between their conversation and the start of the teacher telling them to begin their tests is short. Stiles closes his eyes and concentrates, breaths out and in evenly, reaching for the sigils and activating them. He can see the difference almost instantly in both Scott and Isaac. They both seem to sit up straighter and write faster. 

Stiles grins to himself, satisfied with yet another success. 

He doesn't even have it in him to be wary or upset when his nose starts dripping blood at an alarming rate, almost drenching his test in the red liquid. 

(In fact, he justifies that the bloody nose was karma giving him an extra day to study since he can't turn in a bloody test and gets to spend the rest of the period in the nurse's office.) 

*-*-*-* 

The third time he helps out it sort of shakes him. 

Scott is leading a pack meeting, having gathered everyone because of the looming danger. No one knows what is lurking in the woods for sure but everyone is certain it's supernatural. Three people have disappeared in one week and it is never a good sign when that happens. 

Stiles is rapidly turning pages in the beasitary when the idea comes to him. He looks up slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself. He scoffs at himself shortly afterwards - no one at the pack meeting actively pays attention to him unless he's talking. The only person anyone actively listens to is Scott. He takes this time to slink away to Derek's bathroom. 

In the bathroom, he lines the door with a light sprinkling of wolfsbane (the same kind stitched into his bag) and pulls out the book and an old towel, laying them out beside each other. Stiles thumbs through the book until he finds the locating spell he needs. A small prick to his finger and a few words later he finds that when he reaches for the beastiary he knows exactly what page to reach for. 

Scott doesn't even question him when he comes running from the bathroom with too much excitement. Isaac questions him with a _did you even wash your hands before barging out_ here but both Stiles and Scott ignore him. Scott also doesn't question when Stiles tell him what he thinks(knows) is lurking in the woods as he hands over the book for Scott to read - it's simple to get them to believe he happened to find it because the description of the creature and what it does to its victims matches eye witness reports and, unfortunately, the remains of the first victims corpse. 

Hell, Stiles almost has no trouble getting them all out the door to search for the thing. 

Almost. 

"Stiles, you've _never_ volunteered to stay behind before," Derek shoots him an accusing glare, but it could have also been a concerned glare, Stiles wasn't really focusing on Derek's face. It is harder to lie while staring someone in the eyes. 

"Yeah, well, I figured I should volunteer before I was volun _told_ by a certain glarey werewolf," Stiles says pointedly, raising an eyebrow at Derek. "Besides, you are usually the first to jump into battle, yet here you are behind. People can change." 

"People don't change without a _reason._ " 

"What's your reason?" Stiles counters. That's a conversation Derek apparently doesn't want to have because he breaths harshly out his nose before disappearing behind the loft door, leaving Stiles alone in Derek's house. 

Once alone, Stiles wastes no time ripping things out of his backpack in the bathroom - a map of Beacon Hills, his pocket knife, and some basil, as it was good for concentration. Stiles shrugs off his pants and hikes up his boxers to give the knife access to his thighs. He closes his eyes, chanting the location spell once again, this time focusing on the creature and its whereabouts. He drew the blade across his skin, allowing blood to flow to bring the images forth. 

Slowly, very slowly, the images came to him - clearing as a fog slowly dissipates. When Stiles comes back to himself, his free hand is placed on the map, a good ways north of the old Hale house. Stiles digs around for his cell phone and calls Scott, explaining that after looking over a map, he thinks that place will suit the monster's needs most and to check there first before he hangs up. 

It's not until he's off the phone that the wave of nausea takes over and he throws up all over the map and the blood on the floor and _God there is so much blood_. The cuts on his legs are deeper than he thought and there are more of them than he remembers doing; he just kept dragging the blade until the location had become crystal clear. 

Stiles cleans as quickly as he can - mops up most everything with his towel before stashing it in four plastic bags and shoving it back into his backpack. Then he practically submerges Derek's bathroom in bleach - it stings his eyes and nose and he'll smell bleach for _months_ he's sure. That means that Derek will, too, and all the other wolves. They won't smell vomit or blood and with any luck Stiles hopes that Derek will think he jerked it in here and tried to cover it up. 

*-*-*-* 

Derek most certainly _does not buy_ for one second that Stiles masturbated in his bathroom. He says as much when he scares the living daylights out of Stiles a mere three hours later when Stiles is trying to tenderly sit on his bed with his freshly bandaged legs. He's really glad he put on his plaid pajama bottoms. 

"My entire house _hurts_ to be in," Derek says in place of a hello but Stiles expected nothing more. 

"Sorry, I might have split too much bleach," Stiles tries to be sheepish and innocent but he can tell Derek doesn't buy it for a second. 

"Pack doesn't lie and pack doesn't keep secrets," Derek's eyes flash blue and even though he's not even speaking in a harsh tone Stiles still feels like a very scolded dog. "Are you working with blood magic?" 

Stiles can't answer that. Well, he knows he can but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to tell Derek that he's doing the exact thing Derek told him not to and he also doesn't want to admit to doing it in Derek's house. 

"I thought so," Derek lets out a sigh and all the fight seems to drain out of him. "Stiles, that stuff is dangerous." 

"No it's not," Stiles argues, keeping his voice as quiet and calm as Derek's. After all, his dad is sleeping just a little bit down the hallway and Stiles has a feeling neither he nor Derek want to deal with the Sheriff right now. "I haven't hurt _anybody_ and I've done some real good. I gave my dad confidence, I boosted Scott and Isaac's memories so they'd do well on a test I already knew they studied for, and I found that... thing tonight!" 

Derek's face did his scrunched up I'm-mad-at-you-and-you-know-it face. "Blood magic always has a price and it's pretty obvious what that price it. I don't... I don't know _whose_ blood you are using but even if it's given willingly, it will cause harm. I've seen this stuff go wrong, Stiles, so don't- this isn't something to play with." 

Stiles bites his lip to keep from snapping back loudly. Taking a calming breath, Stiles replies, "I know it's not. I've read all those books you gave me cover to cover. I know blood magic and how it works. I just... I promise it's not that bad. See?" Stiles offers out his hand. His pointer finger has a band-aid on it from when he'd pricked his finger to find the creature in the beastiary. "I drowned your bathroom in bleach because I didn't want to freak you out by smelling my blood. And I may have gone over board, so I'm sorry." 

Derek had moved closer as Stiles spoke and Stiles almost choked when he said 'sorry' because Derek had taken Stiles' hand gentle between his own. Stiles froze, watching Derek intently with wide eyes, Stiles' only movement being his tongue darting out from his lips to wet them - everything about his mouth suddenly seemed dry. 

Derek is oblivious to anything happening with Stiles' face as he peels the band-aid off and inspects the tiny dot where Stiles had stuck himself with a sewing needle. He runs a thumb across the wound, making Stiles suck in a sharp breath. "What you did, working magic, it's brilliant." Derek looks to Stiles' face now and Stiles is suddenly hit with the realization that Derek has been changing, slowly and over a long period of time. The Derek looking at Stiles now is nowhere near the same Derek that had told him and Scott they were trespassing those years ago. "It could have killed so many people before we even came close to figuring out how to find it. I know you saved lives and I know you are doing this for a good reason but don't put yourself in danger for this - to be the hero." 

"I don't want to be a hero," Stiles whispers, searching Derek's face for something he's not even sure of, "I just want my pack safe. You get that, right?" 

Derek must because he nods slightly, a brief movement of his head before he looks away and back to their hands. Derek turns Stiles hand so he can cradle it between both his and strokes the back of it with his thumb, leeching away the minuscule amount of pain there. 

Stiles is tempted to tell him the truth, just to see if he'd lightly touch the still healing cuts on his thighs. To see if he's stroke them gently with the pads of his fingers before placing his palm solidly, but lightly, on them, drain the dull throb each cut seems to pulse with. 

"Promise me you'll stop." 

"I-" Stiles swallows thickly. This time he has to look away, turning his head to the side to stare at his wall. 

"Promise me, Stiles." 

"I can't." 

Stiles watches Derek go, slipping from the room quickly as he had appeared. Stiles misses his touch already but knows that he can't make a promise to Derek if he won't keep it. Even if that means missing out on whatever they might have been heading towards. 

This leads to his fourth time using blood magic. Before falling asleep he chants, sending away the unknown feeling in his chest. He drifts off to sleep with the thought that it might be heartbreak he's feeling. 

When he awakes he has a splitting headache and his legs hurt and it feels like his heart is too small but he's ridiculously happy, almost to the point of _giddy_. 

It's almost like he banished his negative emotions to not have to feel them. 

*-*-*-* 

It should scare Stiles that he isn't scared anymore. It doesn't. 

Nothing scares Stiles anymore. Nothing makes him mad or sad and even nostalgic. He's happy all the time, always. He _knows_ , deep in his mind, that it does scare him that he's always happy. It just never reaches the surface and shows. Not since four days ago when Derek left his room. 

It scares everyone around him, too. Lydia is always giving him quizzical looks, Jackson avoids him now, Isaac and Allison try to be in his presence as little as possible. Stiles hardly ever saw Boyd and Erica outside pack meetings and random school classes so it, at the least, felt the same with them. Kira, bless her heart, seems to spend more time with Stiles, which is good because it strengthens their brobond and makes it so Scott never has to feel bad about picking to hang out with one over the other because Kira and Stiles both completely understand. It does, however, creep Scott out because Stiles is not an upbeat happy person - Scott expressed this to him one evening. 

"Stiles, I am the optimistic friend, you are the pessimistic friend. That's how this works! You use sarcasm and biting words to get your point across and are practically made of sass. What... were you cursed?!" 

"Nah man," Stiles smiles, laughs (feels like crying and dying on the inside but that feeling passes quickly), "no witches or anything. Just got rid of the sadness in my life." 

"Stiles, you don't even get _mad_ anymore. Not even when your dad eats what he's not supposed too!" 

Stiles can feel the tick in his cheek but the smile never leaves his face and he speaks in the happiest tone he can, "I hate when he does that but it's all good. Live and let live, Scotty my man, my alpha, oh glorious ruler of us all." 

Scott purses his lips, judging Stiles. "You do this thing now. Where, like, if you say anything that could in any way be considered talking bad about someone that you back track it! Even if what you first said was your honest opinion!" 

"I do not, I'm always honest." 

"Jackson's a dick." 

"Yes he is!" Stiles immediately agrees and feels a wave of regret for it, "well, not always. He's got a lot of redeeming qualities and can be quite polite." He starts waxing poetry about Jackson and realizes he _can't stop_ and he really really wants to. Something must show in his eyes, his desperation to shut up, because Scott comes forward and slaps a hand over his mouth. This tells his now super polite self to shut the fuck up. 

"I'm going to talk to Deaton. You stay here," Scott orders, using his alpha voice and everything and Stiles feels this really weird sense of duty but also a gross feeling that even if Scott had said that in his regular voice Stiles would still jump at the chance to obey because that's the best way to avoid negative emotions and responses. 

Oh God, what was wrong with him. Nothing, his brain quickly supplies even though deep down that feels wrong to think. Stiles can see himself in the reflection of the window and sees a smile plastered on his face, so fake and creepy that he has to look away. Even though as soon as he looks away he can't remember why it bothered him because nothing bothers him anyway and his life is just perfect, thank you very much. 

Hours pass (which Stiles spends _happily_ scrubbing every surface in his house) before Scott returns looking grim. 

"Stiles, we need help. Deaton's looking into your...condition, but until he gets a lead I need you to come with me. Derek's back," (odd because Stiles wasn't even aware that Derek had been gone) "and Isaac says he's acting worse than you so let's go." 

The ride to Derek's would have been awkwardly silent but Stiles was more than happy to hum If You're Happy and You Know It for everyone to hear to keep the mood chipper and light. 

He's nice like that. 

Once at the lost, something in Stiles _breaks_ when he sees the state Derek is in and it just as quickly fixes, which leaves Stiles with this feeling of wrongness. 

Derek is going batshit crazy, in full beta form, attempting to bite and scratch everything within reach. Boyd has him in a bear hug, arms wrapped around his chest, holding Derek as still as he can while Erica and Isaac hold his right arm and Jackson and Cora hold his left. They are holding him like he's crucified but he kicks his legs like crazy, trying to break free. The noises coming from him sound like Derek can't decide if he wants to scream in rage or agony, cry, or maybe do all at the same time. 

Stiles knows this is his fault. He's brought his magic upon Derek because he was thinking about Derek when he went to sleep that night. He feels... Stiles can't even say what he feels because he knows it should be something like guilt or self-hatred but really all he feels is calm and collected. "Well, has he tried laughing?" Stiles wants to cut out his own tongue once the sentence leaves his mouth and then he suddenly doesn't feel bad for saying it at all. 

Derek must recognize Stiles' voice because he instantly stops thrashing about and looks at Stiles. He lets out an absolutely broken and wrecked sounding sob. "Please, make it stop, please! I-I'll do anything, anything, please, please!" 

Stiles swallows a lump in his throat. He needs to fix this. He can do that, yeah, he's a fixer! The upper of the group! He nods as he smiles. "Yeah, yeah I'll help ya dude. Scott, I need a knife, please and thank you, alpha of all mighty alphas." 

Scott hesitates in getting a knife, but Lydia doesn't and Stiles feels the weight of the kitchen blade as she presses it into his hand. "Help him, Stiles. He's suffered enough in this life." 

Stiles is smiling even though he can feel the tears running down his face. His emotions might not work properly, but his body knew what emotions he wanted to be displaying. "Alright, pups, let him go. And step back." 

No one complies. They look at him like he's lost his mind and being completely honest, Stiles feels like he's completely lost his mind. He's broken himself and Derek and he's almost certain he can only put one of them back together completely. And Stiles knows exactly which one of the two he'd want to save most. 

He runs the knife along his arm in a deep quick cut, spilling blood. He knows, without a doubt, that no one can interfere with this. So his first attack is a quick spilling of lots of blood. It give him the ability to make a barrier, make himself untouchable. He concentrates on Derek, making him untouchable, too. Vaguely he sees the others are forced to let go and step back, compelled in a way that makes Stiles want to throw up. He took away their free will, if only for a moment and that was something he never wanted to do. 

He throws up promptly when he realizes that he's already taken away Derek's free will - has had control of it for four days. And even though Stiles knows he, himself, is not really in control, there is no other term coming to mind for what he's done to Derek. 

Derek tackles him, throwing the knife from Stiles' grip. His voice is harsh and dark when he speaks. "I want nothing more than to rip your throat out, so much rage." Derek swallows his sentence, bracing his hands on either side of Stiles' head, the cement floor cracking as Derek digs his claws into it. 

"I know. I'm sorry, so sorry," Stiles grins, hands taking Derek's face in his hands gently. Using the same light touches Derek had used on his hands days ago. "I'll fix this, I'll fix you. You were right and I'm so sorry." Stiles stroke's Derek's cheek before closing his eyes and drawing on all the magic within him. Drawing on the Spark Deaton says he has, channels it into a fix-all. 

Stiles pulls Derek's face close to his, Derek's mouth open. Stiles opens his mouth, too, and for a small amount of time they just breath until Stiles can't hold it anymore and finally releases the magic in him. 

The entire room goes blinding white as Stiles literally breathes healing into Derek. It all happens in the span of a few seconds, but Stiles feels it all slowly. He feels the shift of Derek's face as it becomes human again, ridiculous sideburns disappearing. Derek's skin feels smoother as a human, though his stubble is scratchy and makes Stiles want to either rub his hands harder against Derek's face or against his jeans to rid himself of the ticklish feeling. He feels, for the briefest of moments (and yet its an eternity), Derek's emotions returning to him. 

Then it's all over and Stiles promptly passes out. 

*-*-* 

He wakes up at Deaton's office. It's just a slow opening of his eyes and stillness. Stiles isn't sure what he was expecting but this was something... less than expected. The only person in the room is Deaton himself, putting a fresh bandage wrap on a poodle. 

"How long have I been here?" Stiles asks, turning his head to the side to look at Deaton. 

Deaton quirks an eyebrow up, but otherwise his face remains expressionless as usual. "A little over six hours. I suggested everyone go home and that I would contact them if you woke up." 

"You think I wasn't going too," it's not a question or an accusation. Stiles says it as a simple statement. 

"Blood magic has that outcome," Deaton replies, patting the poodle's head once he finishes the wrapping. "I knew that if you woke up, you'd wake up different." 

Stiles sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the metal gurney, resting his hands in his lap. He's silent, thinking more clearly than he ever has. "I fixed Derek, didn't I? By giving him whatever happy emotions I had, to balance out his negative." 

Deaton nods, leaning back against the counter. The poodle lifts its head to look at Stiles. It must not see anything it likes because it lays back down. "So, how do you feel?" 

"Well, my back's a little tense and my legs still kinda hurt," Stiles replies even though he knows that's not what Deaton meant. Giving the look Deaton sends his way, Deaton knows that Stiles knows. "Don't tell anyone. It's fine." 

"I won't tell anyone," Deaton agrees, moving forward to lift the poodle off its gurney and place it gentle on the ground. "You'll tell them on your own, or they'll figure it out. Feel free to gather your thoughts before you leave." and with that, Deaton leave the room, the poodle following after. 

Stiles lets out a sigh and slides off the gurney. He doesn't need time to gather thoughts; not when he's never had thoughts this clear and sure. He's going to go home, sleep, and when he wakes up, he'll practice smiling in the mirror. 

The morning goes exactly as he planned and his father doesn't seem convinced he's fine (but his father is also aware that he spent most of his night in a magic induced sleep at Deaton's so he'll probably never be convinced that Stiles is fine). He waves goodbye to his father with a cheerful sounding 'see ya!' before climbing into his jeep and heading to school. 

The first person he meets up with is Lydia, who runs to him and gives him a giant hug. He returns her rather strong squeeze with one of his own before smiling gently at her. "Hey Lydia. I'm fine." 

She steps back from him with a firm nod. "I know. Clearly. Last night was just... scary." 

"Yeah," Stiles agrees easily because it's _true_. "I promise it will never happen again." 

Lydia eyes the wrapping on his arm from last night's cut but says nothing. 

By third period he's run into most of the pack (the only exception being Derek for obvious reasons) and only one person has mentioned a change in Stiles' scent. Scott had wrinkled his nose and said he smelled different, like too much magic. Stiles had laughed and said that he wasn't surprised, given the amount of magic he had used last night. Scott laughed, too, and that was that. 

By the time school was out, Stiles was sure he'd mastered the art of faking emotions. Really it was not that hard. 

After three days had passed, Stiles had learned that without emotions he could lie better than anyone he knew. Could fool even the wolves. 

"Stiles," Derek nodded his head in Stiles' direction at the pack meeting the night of Stiles' revelation. It is the first time they have seen each other since Stiles restored his emotions and Stiles isn't sure how Derek will react to him. 

He has gone over many scenarios in his head - Derek being angry for Stiles using blood magic on him (though accidentally), Derek being guilty for making Stiles feel like he needed to use magic, Derek feeling betrayed for what Stiles had done- and the reaction is apparently to act as though nothing had happened. 

Stiles could get behind that idea one-hundred percent. 

"Yo Derek," Stiles mock salutes him with two fingers and a grin. Derek looks at him oddly, his eyebrows furrowed slightly and eyes seeming too calculating. Stiles looks away so Derek can't observe his face and learn his secret. "So what are we doing tonight, Scott?" 

"Well, I was thinking it'd be nice if we just kinda... hung out. Did something as a pack," Scott replies with a shrug. Out of the corner of Stiles' eye he sees Derek giving Scott a puzzled look. "Come with me to raid your cupboards, Derek." Scott turns and heads to fulfill his promise. Derek hurries after (presumably to stop Scott from dragging all his food out for everyone to eat) and Stiles glides away to fall into conversation with Kira. 

Stiles and Kira are in a rather excited debate about the beastiary when Scott and Derek drop some food on the rickety coffee table (Stiles is convinced that it is the same one from the old Hale house that Derek was once thrown into, just pieced together very carefully, probably with lots of mod podge). Stiles dives for Doritos's bag because they are his favorite and he knows if he doesn't get his fill now he might not get to. 

Derek pulls a movie up on his laptop, which is connected to the TV. It's some crappy movie that tanked so bad it went to Netflix with practically no advertisement; it's slightly funny. Stiles laughs when everyone else does, and even a few times without everyone else because its something he knows he'd find funny even if the humor isn't truly in him. 

The night is uneventful but also filled with a tense air that Stiles can't place and it makes him question what everyone suspects. Deaton said he wouldn't be able to hide this from everyone and Stiles knows he's right. 

He'd just rather face that issue _later_. So, he does what any teenager wishing to avoid something does - lies and leaves. "I promised dad I'd be home before his shift was over so we could get in some Stilinski bonding time. Enjoy the rest of the movie!" 

*-*-*-* 

He manages to avoid any topic about himself for almost a full month. Of course, Stiles thanks the universe because almost any time someone has hesitated before opening their mouth to speak to him (Stiles _knows_ they are trying to word whatever it is they want to say delicately - they've been this way since the Nogitsune) something interrupts them. 

Wonderfully enough it's usually something supernatural. Pixies, wendigos, bogeyman (not nearly as evil as Hollywood made them out to be but certainly very very annoying), and even a _freaking Harpy_ (which even Derek had believed to be extinct but apparently the Nemeton was sparing no expense at what it was attracting to Beacon Hills). 

Stiles has mastered magic. Blood magic is his _bitch_ and if he felt emotions, he'd be very proud of himself. He knows his mastery comes from having no emotions with which to interfere. Which is why he believes all these supernatural problems are a wonderful event. It's even come to it that he is now the only person who comes away from a fight unharmed. 

Who's the weak human now? 

Of course, nothing gold can stay or whatever and it all comes back to him while battling hellhounds. Not literal hellhounds because that implies that their is a Hell which Stiles is not so convinced of, but hellhounds in the sense of evil, demonic dogs thought smell like rotting flesh and are willing to take a bite out of anything near them. 

Scott lets out a howl that could curl blood as he slams against one of the hellhounds, sending it flying into a tree. It howls back and stands up, its wounds vanishing behind a cloud of dark smoke. When the smoke clears in mere seconds, all wounds are gone and the thing is madder than its ever been. 

Really, they all should have thanked Stiles rather than staring at him like he'd grown a second head when he spilled his own blood and drew sigils in the dirt with it, offering up a chant and firm commands. 

All six hellhounds abruptly surrounded him, sitting like perfectly behaved domesticated dogs. 

"Stiles, what the fuck did you do?" Jackson steps back from Stiles. If Stiles wasn't so sure of who he is and who Jackson is, he would have said Jackson looked _scared_ of him. 

In fact, everyone was looking at him like they were more scared of _him_ than the hellhounds, and that was just ridiculous. He reaches out and scratches the leathery ear of the hound closest to him when he answers, "Well, I summoned them. The beastiary lore on them says that the closest hellhounds would respond. Ergo, I summoned six hellhounds to do my bidding and thus the fighting has ended. Pretty cool, huh?" 

"No, Stiles!" Lydia screams, taking on steps towards him before shrinking back, looking at the hellhounds like they might eat her at any moment. "No, it's not. Something is wrong with you Stiles! I can't tell what it is, but you haven't been right for a while now and we've all noticed it." 

Stiles nods, moving his hand to scratch under the dog's chin. It's tail pounded against the ground with a dull sounding _whump whump_. "Deaton said you'd figure it or I'd tell you. Guess it's both." 

Scott looks betrayed and Stiles would feel bad, y'know, if he did emotions. With a silent command, the Hellhounds turn invisible. Maybe not being able to see them will calm his friends. 

"I banished my emotions," Stiles says with no preamble, letting the grin he had on drop from his face to make him expressionless. "Like, I didn't mean to. But it was either fix myself or fix Derek and I picked Derek." 

"Why would you _do that_?!" Derek growls, stepping towards Stiles, his face a mixture of anger and confusion. 

"I was half in love with you. Of course I would pick you over myself," Stiles replies easily. It's so easy to admit now that he doesn't fear rejection. Or maybe it's easy to admit because he doesn't really feel like he loves Derek anymore. Like, he _knows_ he likes Derek, because he can recall the memories of the feeling; the feeling when Derek held his hand gently, and when his crush started somewhere around the time Derek had believed Stiles over Jennifer - so long ago now it all seemed. "It's not so bad, guys. I've got perfect control over my magic now. No emotions to interfere. And yeah, I may seem a bit off but I've been able to cover it enough for the rest of the world to not notice." 

"We don't care if you can do magic!" Scott even _sounds_ betrayed and Stiles really should feel bad. If only. "We want you back, dude. It's like you're not even Stiles anymore." 

"I'm not Stiles to you because I can handle myself now," Stiles shrugs. "That bothers you." 

"No! It bothers me that you can't _feel_ anything Stiles. It's not-" Scott takes an arrow to the shoulder the same time a gunshot is heard. The bullet barely misses Erica as she jumps sideways. 

A group of hunters emerges from the woods around them, weapons at the ready. 

"Y'all look awfully young to be out this late," a grimy looking man grins, his chewing tobacco showing. 

Scott grabs the arrow and pulls it out, snapping it in half as the pack all take fighting stances. Stiles turns slowly to face the hunters. There's about 8 of them. 

"Leave," Scott growls, eyes flashing. Stiles notices how much Scott has changed as well. He's had to harden his heart a little. He no longer struggles with telling the unwanted they are unwanted. 

"I don't take orders from an animal," the man spits back. 

"How about from a fellow hunter," Allison steps forward, bow in hands. "You only hunt those who harm. We protect." 

The hunter seems to size her up before replying, "That's not what I heard. Rumor has it that you're hording some sort of relic that draws danger to this place. Don't sound like protecting to me." 

"The Nemeton is not our fault," Stiles says, letting his hand drop from where he's been absently scratching at the hound. "Leave, or I will make you." 

"Stiles," Scott says it as a warning but Stiles doesn't bother to look at him. He continues making eye contact with the hunter. 

"You shot an arrow into my best friend. Apologize, then leave. If you attempt anything else, you will be taken down swiftly." 

Scott's harsh growl of ' _Stiles_ ' is lost beneath the laughter of the group of hunters. Stiles finds nothing amusing in this situation 

"I don't take orders," the man says, his ugly teeth showing as he smiles. "I give 'em." 

Stiles plants his feet firmly before saying, "attack." 

All hell breaks loose as the hellhounds take down six of the eight men in seconds. Stiles has already sent out the order of wound, don't kill, but the hounds will do whatever the need to to survive. 

Scotts howls before charging to the closest hunter being attacked, grabbing at the invisible dog before throwing it away. The rest of the pack jumps into the fray, trying to help hunters that can't see their invisible attackers. So, confused and scared, the hunter attack the pack. 

Stiles can tell it's going to be a blood bath, everyone attacking everyone who isn't part of their group. 

The leader lets out an enraged yell and tackles Stiles, who falls back to the basic training he'd had with the pack and his father about self-defense. He rolls way quickly, jumping to his feet. The man lashes out with his blade and Stiles isn't quite quick enough. The hunter's blade digs into Stiles' calf and he screams out as his body reacts to the intrusion though he doesn't really feel anything about it. The hunter pulls a gun from a holster on his leg and points it at Stiles' forehead. 

He's been in this position before and he was too scared to do anything about it then. This time he's collected and thinking completely clearly and logically. He must kill, or be killed. 

He pulls the blade from his leg, using the rushing blood to pull magic from himself and jam the gun. Stiles pushes forward on his good leg and embeds the blade in the eye socket of the hunter, drawing more power from this death. With a thought, he heals his leg and banishes the hellhounds. 

The hunting group vanishes quickly, leaving only his pack behind, looking at Stiles with so many different emotions on all their faces. Their gazes switch between him and the dead man in front of him. 

"It was him or me," Stiles says, wiping the blood on his hand onto his jeans. He's never felt such raw and primal power before; the book wasn't lying when it said that using the blood of your enemies enhanced your magic. 

Scott looks like he wants to scream at Stiles, but Kira is the one that speaks. "We should get you to a hospital. That blade went all the way through your calf." 

"It's fine," Stiles waves her off, the buzz of magic still hovering around him. "I used his life force to fix it." 

Stiles blinks and suddenly a tree is grinding into his back as Erica shoves him against it. "You _killed_ a man to heal yourself?" She sounds so angry and hurt. 

"No, I killed a man to save my own life," Stiles explains, because really, why isn't anyone getting this? "I figured that since he was going to die anyway, I could use that to my advantage. I didn't do this to be cruel; it was just the most logical move." 

"No, the logical move was letting Scott, _your alpha_ , handle the situation and get them to leave!" Jackson says from somewhere behind Erica's head. Stiles can't really see anything but her with as close as she is, pushing him into the tree. Maybe she's hoping the tree will absorb him. 

Stiles entertains the idea of allow the tree to absorb him just to see what their expression would be. What emotions would they portray? Shock? Anger? Confusion? Now that he couldn't feel emotions it was hard for him to imagine which ones they would use. He can't even rely on his memory to tell him what he would feel in this situation. 

Erica releases him quickly when a hand lands on her shoulder. Stiles sees that it's Derek's once Erica moves away and Derek is left standing there. 

"Come on Stiles," he says in a quiet voice, holding a hand out to Stiles. Stiles takes it, because there is no reason not to. Derek's voice is tired and sounds like he just wants to go home. Derek uses his hand to pull him close, wrap his arms around him. They are the same height, Stiles realizes. Derek rests his chin on Stiles' shoulder, arms holding him tightly but not squeezing. Stiles feels his body relax, the after affects of the blood magic draining from him body slowly. He sinks into Derek, resting his chin on Derek's shoulder in turn. He's tired suddenly, very tired, so he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him. 

*-*-*-* 

It takes almost another month before Deaton finds another blood witch willing to fix Stiles. Of course, Stiles knows that the witch isn't doing to it help Stiles - just to help herself. She can forfeit her emotions to Stiles, thus gaining the same control over magic that Stiles has. 

He would be more against this if he hadn't spent much of that month alone and thinking. Stiles understands magic, he really does. This whole experience has helped him understand magic. He's been reading a lot of books, ones Deaton found for him. (He'd given Derek back the other books without hesitation. Derek had asked him one day, softly. Stiles had silently handed them over. He already knew them cover to cover anyway.) They explain a different kind of magic, softer and gentler. It's not fighting magic but it might be a way to Stiles to help. 

If the pack even wanted him still. 

Logically, if anyone had betrayed him as deeply as the pack acts like he did, he would cut them from his life and call it good. Of course, he couldn't factor in emotional attachments. 

Those emotions might be why most of the pack is at Deaton's with him after hours, willing to be there for this ritual. 

Scott pulls him into a hug before he enters the back room. "I'll be waiting, buddy." 

Kira, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, Boyd, and Derek are also here. Erica and Jackson aren't and Stiles can't really blame them. 

Once in the room, the witch does much the same thing he did to Derek, just with more candles and Deaton chanting above them. 

And much like when he saved Derek, he passes out. 

*-*-*-* 

Stiles cries for three days before hating himself. Someone from the pack is always with him. He wouldn't trust himself alone either. Deaton said that the healing process would be hard. Stiles knew this was true. He has difficulty looking at himself in the mirror every morning and just as hard a time looking at Derek. 

When he looks at Derek he can feel the blush rise up on his face. Derek hasn't ever brought up his casual admittance of love and Stiles is staying clear of it, too. With his emotions back, it's a bridge he's afraid to cross. Terrified even. He can tell that Derek would let him down gently if he brought it up again, but he is completely okay with just _never mentioning it again._

Especially since he has too much healing to do. Maybe Derek knows that, and that's why he's not making Stiles face him? 

No, Derek's just a nice enough person to not bring it up. Stiles will need to when he's ready to talk about. Being honest, though, he's not sure he ever will be. 

Months pass, and Stiles heals. It's a quicker process than he thought it would be but there's no time for gentle healing when you town is constantly attacked by things that know you are weakened and magic and perfect for _devouring_. He's not completely healed and the nightmares still haunt him, but by graduation time his smile is genuine again and he can joke and laugh with his friends. 

It's not perfect but it's _better_. 

It's a month after gradution that Derek plops himself down next to Stiles on the forest floor, where he's reading through the beastiary while the wolves all spare. 

"I'm glad you're back," Derek says, looking at Stiles through the corner of his eye. 

"I'm really glad to be back," Stiles replies and silence falls over them. It's a few minutes before Stiles speaks again. "Listen, Derek, I'm sorry. I should have listened to you and-" 

"No," Derek cuts him off, giving him a stern look, "no. Don't apologize. Don't bring it up. It all happened and it's done." 

Stiles bites his bottom lip, then looks arounnd at the lively nature that surrounds them. "Deaton's been showing me some different magic. It's hard for him to teach, since he doesn't actually do magic, but I think... can I show you?" 

Derek looks surprised, but nods. 

Stiles closes his eyes and takes inhales deeply. He opens his eyes before letting it out. He holds his hand out from his body, palm up, before pulling it back to his body, as though using his whole arm to geasture someone towards them. The wind rushes pass them, cool and gentle. "It can't create things, not like- I can just use what's already around. It's a nice breeze though." 

Derek turns his body towards Stiles, a soft smile on his face. "It's brilliant, Stiles. Your brilliant." 

Stiles looks to Derek, gathering up his courage to say something, but finds he doesn't have to. Derek reaches a hand out to cup his face before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. It leaves a goofy smile on Stiles' face. 

It's a promise of a brighter tomorrow, of a _them_ , and Stiles finds he's in no hurry to make it to them. They'll happen in their own time. So he and Derek sit together, watching everyone else, their hands finding each other and smiles on their faces.


End file.
